The Confessions of Jean Jacques Rousseau — Complete
Jean-Jacques Rousseau · en
Italian music with which it inspires all those who are capable of
feeling its excellence. In listening to barcaroles, I found I had not
yet known what singing was, and I soon became so fond of the opera that,
tired of babbling, eating, and playing in the boxes when I wished to
listen, I frequently withdrew from the company to another part of the
theater. There, quite alone, shut up in my box, I abandoned myself,
notwithstanding the length of the representation, to the pleasure of
enjoying it at ease unto the conclusion. One evening at the theatre of
Saint Chrysostom, I fell into a more profound sleep than I should have
done in my bed. The loud and brilliant airs did not disturb my repose.
But who can explain the delicious sensations given me by the soft
harmony of the angelic music, by which I was charmed from sleep; what
an awaking! what ravishment! what ecstasy, when at the same instant I
opened my ears and eyes! My first idea was to believe I was in paradise.
The ravishing air, which I still recollect and shall never forget, began
with these words:
Conservami la bella,
Che si m’accende il cor.
I was desirous of having it; I had and kept it for a time; but it was
not the same thing upon paper as in my head. The notes were the same but
the thing was different. This divine composition can never be executed
but in my mind, in the same manner as it was the evening on which it
woke me from sleep.
A kind of music far superior, in my opinion, to that of operas, and
which in all Italy has not its equal, nor perhaps in the whole world,
is that of the ‘scuole’. The ‘scuole’ are houses of charity, established
for the education of young girls without fortune, to whom the republic
afterwards gives a portion either in marriage or for the cloister.
Amongst talents cultivated in these young girls, music is in the first
rank. Every Sunday at the church of each of the four ‘scuole’, during
vespers, motettos or anthems with full choruses, accompanied by a great
orchestra, and composed and directed by the best masters in Italy, are
sung in the galleries by girls only; not one of whom is more than twenty
years of age. I have not an idea of anything so voluptuous and affecting
as this music; the richness of the art, the exquisite taste of the
vocal part, the excellence of the voices, the justness of the execution,
everything in these delightful concerts concurs to produce an impression
which certainly is not the mode, but from which I am of opinion no heart
is secure. Carrio and I never failed being present at these vespers of
the ‘Mendicanti’, and we were not alone. The church was always full of
the lovers of the art, and even the actors of the opera came there to
form their tastes after these excellent models. What vexed me was the
iron grate, which suffered nothing to escape but sounds, and concealed
from me the angels of which they were worthy. I talked of nothing else.